


Helping hands

by Caliras



Series: Dyslexic Stan [6]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Dyslexia, Dyslexic Stan, Grunkle Stan Needs A Hug, Hospitals, Past Child Abuse, Sad Grunkle Stan, Stan is dyslexic, Supportive Dipper Pines, Supportive Mabel Pines, only briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caliras/pseuds/Caliras
Summary: Stan is with the doctor, being asked question and getting uncomfortable.





	Helping hands

_The doctor nodded once and wrote something down. Stan felt like an iron ball had been dropped into his gut. He hated admitting that. The doctor looked back at him, ready to ask another question._

_This wasn’t going to be fun._

~~~~~~~

“Would you like to be alone for the next few questions?” The doctor asked, “They’re nothing too personal, but many patients prefer to answer them alone.”

A debate began in his head, tossing back benefits and consequences. On one hand, this could be about uncomfortable stuff, but on the other hand, what if it wasn’t too bad? Were they discussing medical records under the guise of simple questions? Or was it more questions about dyslexia? Intrusive questions about dyslexia? Innocent? Or not? Against his will, he looked over at the kids, smiling encouraging up at him, content to go with he chose.

“They can stay,” He decided quickly, before he could change his mind.

“Well then, has anyone helped you with your dyslexia?” She inquired, looking at him steadily.

Another flashback sprung at him, though this time he was prepared for it. He was on his bed, staring solemnly at a piece of paper. The words scampered on the pages, ducking and weaving, making no sense. He knew what it was. The teacher explained it in class. That didn’t make it easier. Because it was a book report. That he had to write out. He couldn’t even read the questions, how was he supposed to read a book. The words bobbed like boats, slung themselves across the paper, and even floated towards him before dropping back down. He couldn’t do this. He wanted to burn the paper. In the midst of contemplating how he’d go about burning it, Ford walked in.

“Hey sixer!” He said brightly, ignoring the instinct to hide the paper.

Ford already knew about it, they were in the same class afterall. He probably already had it done

“Hey Stan!” His brother greeted before flopping down on the bed beside him, “What’s the matter?”

Subconsciously, Stan rubbed his neck while grinning, “It’s just this dumb book report.”

“Oh that one! I finished it so I can help you!” Called it.

“Thank you! I just… don’t like writing. Or reading.” His brother knew that he couldn’t read, but it wasn’t something he liked to admit.

His brother thought about it for a moment before bouncing up and down on the bed, “I know! What if I read you the book and you could tell me what to write down!” Ford asked, practically beaming.

“You’d really do that for me? You’re the best!” After that, Ford made Stan try to read over his shoulder as he read aloud.

They’d kept that up for years, with Stan steadily growing in grades until middle school. Then Ford had gotten frustrated with him, and they began to drift apart. After that, Stans grades dropped. The room fell back into place, this time though, they were looking at him.

“Sorry, had to think. There was someone who helped me, but they didn’t know about dyslexia,” He said, avoiding both looking at his brother and saying the word ‘my’.

He didn’t even know if he had dyslexia yet, so he decided against saying ‘my dyslexia’.

The doctor looked up at this, “How did they help?”

Oh hot belgian waffles, “They read books to me and wrote the book report as I told them.”

He felt Ford stiffen next to him. Yep, he noticed. This was so embarrassing.

“Did they try to help you with reading or writing or did they just do it themselves?”

“They told me to read along with them, and they taught me the alphabet. I even memorized some of the books.” He felt as if he’d rather run out of the office than stay here any longer.

“Memorized?”

“Yeah, I remember every word of at least two books, and bits and pieces of others. The two I remember was the last to they read to me.” Now he was really uncomfortable.

Fortunately, she seemed to notice and switched gears to something else, “Did you do any activities while in school?”

“Dad put us in boxing.” He stated, uncertain about the change in topic.

“Did you get extra credit for it?”

“No, we were put there so dad would have something else to brag about.” He replied, hiding bitterness in facts.

“Something else?” Dr. Medicine questioned, finding trails he didn’t even notice he’d left.

“Ford’s an academic genius. Smart then, smart now. All ‘A’s’. Twelve PhDs.” He said, actually proud for his brother.

“Did you like boxing?” She asked, turning the conversation away from Ford.

“I- um, yeah I liked it.” That was not the question he was expecting.

Usually people asked if he was good at it. He was, but that was beside the point.

“What did you like about it?”

“Hmmm, I liked… to work off stress. It was fun to be in that group.” Well that was half of it, at least.

“Is there anything else you liked about it?” Dr. Medicine asked, sharper than a tack.

“Oh, erm, um,” He floundered, looking at the people in the room before deflating, “I- I liked being good at something.”

That took way too much to admit. He wanted to melt into the floor. Heat raced up his back, making him even more uncomfortable. He couldn’t look anyone in the eyes.

The doctor, bless her, took this as a sign to move onto the next thing.

Dr. Medicine handed him a slip of paper, “Would you mind reading this for me?”

Numbly, he nodded, looking down at the paper. He stared at it for a full minute, becoming increasingly aware that there were other people in the room.

Eventually, he looked up, “Does this have the word ‘cow’ in it?”

His brother flinched back. Like an actual full body flinch. Stan’s shoulders lifted for a moment, following the instinct to curl them around his ears, copying what he did when he was younger when his dad was mad. It had probably saved him from a concussion multiple times. Everything froze, everyone was looking at him with wide eyes, other than the doctor who was looking at Ford.

Her gaze slid into a deadly calm, “Nope, nuh uh. None of that. Not in my office. I don’t care if he’s your brother. You either keep your reactions to yourself, or you get out. He’s a patient here and he won’t be judged.” Her gaze never wavered from Ford.

His brother slunk down in his seat, face turning a brilliant red while he stuttered out apologies. Stan looked away from him, wondering how thick the glass was on the window and if he could jump out. Mabel and Dipper placed their hands on his arms, though Dipper had to get up to walk to his other arm. They gave him similar comforting smiles and Dipper sat back in his seat while Mabel whispered, ‘It’s okay’ in his ear before also sitting back.

After they all settled, Dr. Medicine spoke up again, “You are allowed to tell them to get out at any time. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of a question or not. You control who is in the room.”

Stan felt a small weight being lifted off his shoulders, one that he didn’t even know was there.

“That being said I’m about to ask you a personal question, you don’t have to answer it, but I’d feel better if you do,” She looked like she already regretted the question before she even asked it, and Stan already knew what it was going to be. With understanding, regret, and comfort in her eyes, she dropped the worst question of the session.

“Why did you react like that?”

**Author's Note:**

> I think Ford just had an epiphany! And has finally realized just how bad it is! Also more things may come into light soon.


End file.
